


yeah, I dreamed about it

by sunspot (unavoidedcrisis)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Sleep Deprivation, Tea, Working Late, do you trust me?, mild flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 15:07:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20744204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unavoidedcrisis/pseuds/sunspot
Summary: Non-stop work, non-stop stress, non-stop activity, that was what they all signed up for. But everyone's got to sleep eventually. Either you work until you fall asleep at your desk with your finger in an inkwell, you pass out in the training yard and the Chargers take your pants, or you do as Josephine says and you justsit downalready.





	yeah, I dreamed about it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_wrote](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_wrote/gifts).

The number of times Josephine had to say 'no' was a little alarming, but in the end, Leliana agrees, that no, they probably shouldn't murder the marchioness. It would be courting disaster, both politically and logistically: the marchioness is travelling with her six grand-nieces and her entire kennel of dainty, miniature pigs. Would it be called a kennel if it's referring to pigs? For dogs, of course, but she was unsure of nomenclature surrounding swine, be they pets or otherwise. And it could hardly be called a sty; those pigs are better fed, dressed, and accessorized better than most of Orlais. 

Regardless, the Inquisition would not be seeing to the murder of the marchioness.

Josephine heaves a sigh of relief that turns swiftly to an unladylike yawn when Inquisitor Cadash calls the meeting to an end and they all start to file out. It's late, far later than they normally have meetings, but the Inquisitor had been eager to debrief after her return from L'Emprise du Lion.

She lingers for a moment too long by her desk, shuffling through a few loose papers she didn't get to during the day.

"Josephine? A moment?"

"If this is about the marchioness --"

Leliana holds her hands up in deference. "It is not, I promise. We all agreed on the Commander's plan of action and you'll not hear more arguments from me."

Josephine sags slightly against her desk. "My apologies, Leliana, I didn't mean that to sound so sharp."

"No apology needed, it's been a long day for all of us. You had that spat between the workers to sort out this morning, and I don't think I've seen you stop since."

'Spat' is a very odd choice of words for the all-out brawl that occured in the courtyard, with chisels and hammers being thrown, broken masonry, damaged egos and one broken finger. The written apologies are expected on Josephine's desk by sundown tomorrow, but the damage to the wall into the smithy will take weeks to repair.

Josephine pinches the bridge of her nose, trying again to stave off the tension headache that's been threatening her for weeks. "Quite a day, much like all the others these days."

Leliana chuckles. "Indeed. But tell me you're finished with your work for tonight, and you're planning to sleep?"

"I will if you will," Josephine says. Everyone in the Inquisition should be familiar with losing a night's sleep or five over their jobs at this point, but none more than Leliana. Even Cadash catches more cat naps and she's been out on the road for almost half a year straight.

"I have a few more reports --"

"Leliana, please. Humour me and get some rest? Cullen was falling asleep on his feet and Cadash yawned more than she spoke in that meeting. We all deserve a little rest. Or rather, it's past 'deserve' at this point. It's dangerous and foolhardy to continue making decisions that could affect our goals or our people's lives without any time to recuperate." Josephine is a little shocked she snapped like that. She'd been thinking it, of course, but she usually has more decorum in her words. Sleep-deprivation will do that to a person, she supposes.

There's a beat of thrilling silence where Josephine finds herself staring Leliana down. They're friends, of course, but Leliana is still… made of some very hard edges sometimes.

"You must have practiced that," Leliana says, and the smile slowly taking over her face like an ink drop in water.

"I did not!" Josephine exclaims. Which is entirely true. She's had all of those thoughts before, even imagined saying them to Leliana (and Cullen, and the Inquisitor, and Cassandra, and on and on), but Josephine hadn't ever put them in that order aloud before.

Leliana's now-broad smile dissolves into laughter and she sags onto the settee by the fireplace. She pushes the hood away from her face and shakes out her hair. The copper of it catches in the firelight.

"Oh, Josie. You care so much for us, all of us. Wherever would be without you?"

Josephine opens her mouth to reply, but stops when she realizes Leliana is being serious, even with all the giggling. "Oh, well, I'm sure you'd find someone else to help with your obnoxious marchionesses and your bloodthirsty dukes."

"Maybe," Leliana says. She pats a spot on the settee next to her. "But no one with your capability or flair."

Josephine settles into place and is almost shocked at how comfortable the stiff, musty divan actually is tonight. It's usually uncomfortable as anything, but the weariness of a fortnight must have softened it. "You're too kind, and I daresay we'd never find _anyone_ who can do what you do."

Leliana lets out a little sigh and tips her head back. "No, I suppose not. That just means I'm nervous to take any kind of break."

"Break now. Sleep," Josephine urges. "You've more than earned it, and someone will wake you the moment there's a situation that requires your attention, I assure you."

"Right here, in your office?"

Josephine weighs the options. "It's warm and dry and the door keeps out a surprising amount of noise from the hall. And no one walks through here, unless they're going to the council room. I doubt we'll see Cadash for the next two days, now that Sera's got a hold of her."

"And you don't trust me not to go back to work if I leave?"

Josephine bites down on her smile and fixes Leliana with what she hopes is an affronted glare. "I trust you with my life."

"But…?"

"Leliana, I trust you with my life, with the lives of all our soldiers and our friends. I trust you with our entire operation."

"Josie…" Leliana lifts her head off the divan.

"No, Leliana, I don't trust you at all to get some rest and not go back to work the moment you're out of my sight."

Leliana starts giggling again. "You're so good with your words. Always know just what to say…" Her words trail off into a small sigh. "Thank you, Josie, for keeping everything together."

She's not positive about all that, but Leliana is relaxing into the lumpy seat like it's a down filled bed in a palace, so it doesn't matter what Josephine's sure of. She moves to stand up, to leave Leliana with the settee to lie down on, but Leliana doesn't let her.

"Boots?" Leliana's words are rounded and soft with sleep already. Josephine obliges her and pulls one foot after the other up into her lap, unlacing Leliana's boots and setting them aside. Leliana settles in then, shifting against the arm of the settee until she finds what must be a comfortable position. Her feet are in Josephine's lap as her eyes drift close and her breathing starts to even and slow. There's nowhere Josephine can really move to without shoving Leliana off of her, and she deems that to be unfair after she basically goaded her into resting.

Instead Josephine toes off her own shoes and tries to lean back. A hairpin jabs her uncomfortably, so she has to remove them all and let her hair curl wildly around her face and shoulders.

With her hair at its most unruly and her hips already stiff from the untenable position, Josephine longs for her bed. For a moment, or maybe two, until the rhythm of Leliana's breathing and the soft crackle of the fireplace blend into an irresistible, intoxicating lullaby. It's not hard to understand then, even as sleep clutches at her, how this is the perfect place to rest.

* * *

Dawn comes, looking milky and pale through the small window. Josephine blinks and tries to stretch the most uncomfortable stiffness out of her neck.

It's a full few seconds before she realizes that she's mostly quite cold. Her feet feel like icicles on the stone floor; the fire's all but gone out, just a few embers glowing dimly. Josephine's ears are cold, her face, her neck, but her lap feels warm.

Leliana's feet are still resting there. She's still sleeping, with one arm dangling off the settee and her mouth slightly open. There's the smallest wheeze on every exhale. Not a snore, Josephine wouldn't go that far, but whatever it is, it's remarkably endearing.

Ever so slowly, Josephine lifts Leliana's feet and wriggles her way out from under them. Leliana stirs, but doesn't wake. She must be exhausted then, because she's usually awake, dressed, and armed the moment the first report hits her desk every morning.

Josephine takes the stairs to the kitchens in her slightly rumpled dress from the day before, to ask for those Orlesian almond pastries and a pitcher of hot water for tea from her personal stash.

Leliana is still asleep, now rolled onto her side with her head on the seat cushions. It's probably slightly less unpleasant than before but Josephine wouldn't put a large amount of coin on it being genuinely comfortable.

After two cups of tea have had sufficient time to steep, Josephine touches Leliana's shoulder to wake her. It takes a moment, but her eyes flutter open and she immediately has a smile for Josephine.

"I smell… What is that lovely smell? Orange blossoms?"

"Tea. My tea from home. I made you a cup."

"That's very sweet of you." Leliana groans a bit when she moves to get off the settee.

"Not a very comfortable place to rest," Josephine says, offering the hot drink as recompense.

"Not at all I'm afraid. Next time, we should try a bed. Oh, this tea is lovely."

"A bed next time?"

Leilana's face remains indecipherable over her teacup, the gentle wisps of steam floating up into her face making her even more mysterious. She says nothing.

"Yes," Josephine says, with another sip from her own tea. "I think that would be nicer. Pastry?"

"Oh Josie, the almond ones, you remembered!"

**Author's Note:**

> Black Emporium! The hap-happiest season of all! <3 Thanks for being awesome, the_wrote.
> 
> Big ups to everyone's favourite Sandal for beta-reading and encouraging me and wearing that hilarious hat.


End file.
